


Love Comes Slyly, Like a Thief

by susako



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/F, Love/Hate, Mass Effect 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-25
Updated: 2013-02-25
Packaged: 2017-12-03 15:35:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/699815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/susako/pseuds/susako
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miranda was pretty certain that she <i>hated</i> Jack. She was sure that their sexual encounter was just a one-off, born out of fury and frustration. But then, quietly, over time, Jack became the most important person in her world. She didn't realise it was happening until it was already so natural they didn't even need to speak about it.</p><p>Charting the development of a relationship between Jack and Miranda on the Normandy, during the events of Mass Effect 2 and crossing briefly into Mass Effect 3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Comes Slyly, Like a Thief

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for md_kiryu, for the Mass Effect Secret Santa exchange over on Livejournal. The original prompt was: _Anything involving Miranda/Jack, whether it's fic or art. Unlike a lot of people who just go "lolz hatesex", I love genuinely romantic stuff between them. I could totally see them settling down together post-ME3, with Jack hating herself for liking it so much. It's it's fic, something fluffy._
> 
> It spiralled out of control length-wise for an exchange fic, but if you do take the time to read it I hope you enjoy!

Long working hours, battles they made it through by the skin of their teeth, _that suicide mission_ , blah blah blah. Miranda could handle all of it. The injuries, the damaged weapons, the feeling that they were all probably doing this in vain weren't even blips on her radar. She would just stretch out her aching muscles a little, clean her favourite submachine gun and then back to the desk to check through messages and dossiers late into the night. Not that you could tell what time of day it was in space. What mattered the most to her was doing her job, and doing it right.

The one thing she just about wasn't able to handle was _her_.

From day one, Miranda had known that to bring such a volatile _creature_ on board was a mistake. Jack was unpredictable if she accompanied Shepard on missions, something that put everyone in danger. She was rude and disrespectful to everyone on board. Her tattoos were unsightly and her clothes were always slightly dishevelled or out of place. She didn't even bother to socialise with the rest of the crew, preferring to huddle down in her little dungeon, as Miranda liked to call it, like some kind of rodent. At least Miranda came out of her office for mealtimes to interact with the crew. It was important to have a scheduled amount of human contact.

There were few words to describe the intense dislike that Miranda had for Jack. She wanted her off the ship because she was a liability, but more and more days passed and Jack was still there. While Miranda couldn't deny Jack's skill as a biotic, she was more than aware of how crazy Jack was. She had tried in vain to persuade Shepard that it was in her best interests to lose certain members of the crew, but Shepard wouldn't hear any more of it. Pursuing it any further would mean that Miranda risked losing what standing she had in Shepard's eyes.

Sitting at her desk, Miranda found that in thinking about the problem that was Jack, she had absently read the same paragraph on the screen three times. That woman was such a distraction, a blight on an otherwise well-running ship. It bothered her as well that the Illusive Man seemed to be in favour of Jack residing on the ship, she could vaguely recall him trying to reassure her that it was a useful experiment.

_Yes, in how to drive me insane._

On one of the camera feeds she could make out a dark figure lying on a flat surface, playing with an object, tossing it up and catching it just before it could hit her in the face. Miranda couldn't see properly, but it looked like a gun of some kind. Shaking her head, Miranda went back to trying to read her document as the figure on screen tossed the gun up so hard it hit the ceiling. Miranda could almost hear the dull thunk and almost see the dent left in the Normandy's smooth, metallic surface.

 

 

Jack's battle cries were feverish, almost frenzied and had the desired effect of striking terror in the hearts of her foes. Miranda had seen even the most stalwart of enemies tremble when faced with the raging biotic. But it didn't redeem Jack's recklessness. Many a time, Miranda felt herself dodging Jack's projectiles as an uncontrolled blast sent bits and pieces flying in any and all direction, towards the enemies and towards her 'teammates' indiscriminately.

It would be so easy to just... incapacitate her.

But Miranda never did, partly because she always felt Shepard watching her carefully.

 

 

Jack was hardly around the ship, but on the rare occasions that she and Miranda did see each other around the Normandy, the atmosphere was always prickly. On one occasion, they had both encountered each other on the crew's quarters level, and ended up waiting for the elevator. Garrus, who had been on his way somewhere, who knows where, had thought better of attempting to take the elevator downstairs and had retreated back to the Main Battery, leaving Miranda and Jack to stare coldly at each other.

 _Doesn't her head get cold?_ Miranda thought dully, looking at the contours of Jack's skull. 

"What are you looking at?" came the predictable response.

Miranda chose not to answer, instead rolling her eyes. Couldn't EDI make the elevator go any faster?

As if she had been listening to Miranda's thoughts, the elevator arrived. Luckily, the door was wide enough for the two of them to step in at the same time, instead of fighting over who would get in first.

The ride was painfully slow, made even more painful by the sound of Jack chewing something, probably gum, also as likely to be nothing just to get on Miranda's nerves. Miranda tried very hard to stay still and appear nonchalant, but it was difficult when her arms were folded so stiffly and she could feel Jack watching her.

"What are _you_ looking at?" she finally snapped.

Jack's only answer was a bark of laughter as the elevator arrived at her floor.

 

 

Miranda was low behind some crates yet again, dodging debris. She could hear cries and shouts coming from the other side of the makeshift barrier, the distinctive hum of charging energy and another explosion.

While she waited for the dust to clear, Miranda picked out bits of who-knows-what out of her hair, gritting her teeth.

 

 

'Hatesex' didn't even come close to describing the first time.

Miranda had been down on the Engineering deck. It soothed her to look at the core's spinning light and listen to its gentle hum, a sound which seemed to make her skin tingle. It was energy, it was power and it was assurance - a cool glow that restored her to herself for a moment. It wasn't always easy trying to manage the Illusive Man and Shepard, after all.

Feeling more like herself, Miranda walked through Main Engineering with a formal nod to Donnelly and Daniels. The doors opened and she stepped through them, promptly walking directly into Jack, who had been on her way to her little hideaway.

"Watch it," Jack snarled, rubbing her arm.

There was no way that Jack had been even slightly injured by their contact. Miranda felt all of her calm starting to evaporate. There was just something about Jack that really grated on her, that chipped away at the highly competent and professional demeanour she liked to maintain aboard the Normandy. Those tattoos, that smirk, those resentful eyes... "You're the one who should watch it," she snapped before she knew what she was saying. The constant twist of Jack's lip, the arch of her eyebrow... Every detail that she noticed raised Miranda's temper ever so slightly.

"Or what?" Now she had been challenged, Jack reared up, ready for a fight.

 _God, she's such an animal_. "Just stay out of my way."

"You're the one who should stay out of mine. One of these days, Cheerleader." Her voice had a feral bravado to it, threat and boast all at once. "One of these days I'm gonna rip your pretty little head from your shoulders. I don't care what Shepard does or says. I don't _like_ people like you, always running around like you _own_ the place, like you can just fucking walk all over the rest of us. Like you're better than me."

Miranda smiled wryly. She couldn't help it. "That's because I _am_."

She threw her fist just as Jack's biotics started to flare, her knuckles connecting with a satisfying _thwack_ even as she felt her feet lift from the floor. There wasn't time to properly brace herself as she went flying down the staircase, hitting the solid wall with a crunch. _Aahhh..._ For a brief moment there were stars, followed by the slow-motion sight of Jack leaping down the stairs after her. Miranda's reflexes kicked in and she rolled out of the way, throwing herself down the rest of the stairs, quickly scrambling to her feet, trying to get an even footing before the next assault.

When Jack sprang down the stairs again, Miranda was prepared and launched herself with a furious cry at the other woman. The two collided and tumbled to the floor. Miranda's head narrowly missed a crate and Jack's leg connected with a disused piece of equipment as they rolled over and over, each trying to gain the advantage over the other, occasionally slamming into the wall, the furniture, the rest of the surroundings as the space tightened towards Jack's hideout.

"I'm gonna fucking kill you!" Jack roared, grabbing for Miranda's hair. The red lighting made her look like a warrior goddess drowning in blood fury and for a second Miranda was almost frightened. Almost.

"Try it!" Miranda growled back, digging her nails into Jack's thin arms, anything to get her a stronger grip while her feet struggled for purchase on the smooth floor. She saw stars again when Jack headbutted her and a sharp pain shot through her neck as she felt teeth moments later – teeth! –struggle to tear into her flesh. "You beast!" She slammed a hand into Jack's temple, temporarily stunning her but Jack recovered quickly and shoved forward as if to headbutt her again.

Except it wasn't their foreheads that connected. It was their lips.

The kiss was fierce and violent. Miranda felt her lips starting to swell as Jack bit down upon them, and she kissed back just as strongly, determined that Jack wasn't going to win. She clawed down Jack's nearly-naked back, causing her to hiss with pain.

The world suddenly turned into a blur of limbs and sensation. Miranda was only vaguely aware of what was happening - her clothes were disappearing to be replaced with Jack's matching skin and the cold surface of the floor, it felt as if she was on fire and the only thing she was certain of was that she needed release and she wanted to hurt this creature until she gave it to her. The painful nips, bites and scratches that Jack was giving her as they both struggled showed that she was experiencing the same kind of feeling. It wasn't so much sex as a battle in itself, a competition to see who was going to break first.

Some time later, as they were tangled together and all Miranda could do was _feel_ and fight and _feel some more_ she saw, heard and tasted Jack reach her climax, just as she felt a delicious rush of pleasure surge through her own body, erasing everything from her mind except the vague thought that even then, Jack could curse.

_Does that... make it a tie...?_

Jack's curses lingered in the air like a sigh of a relief and an exclamation of horror all at once. Miranda lay there gasping, feeling the words hovering around her like an echo. As they settled and her breathing slowed and the sweat started to dry on her skin, leaving an uncomfortable chill around her legs, back and breasts, she started to compose herself. Jack didn't even move or look at her, lying there naked but not necessarily proud, almost as if _well fuck it, she's seen it all, no point in hiding_. The tattoos really did extend everywhere after all.

The process of dressing was slow and deliberate, the haze starting to clear. Once she was fully clothed and composed, Miranda stood on steady legs. She brushed her dishevelled hair over her shoulders as she walked up the stairs, aware that underneath her Jack was still lying there naked, not even bothering to watch her leave.

 

 

The second time was just as unexpected, just as violent, and just as fantastic.

So was the third.

The fourth wasn't so brutal, only because now their mutual cuts and bruises were becoming apparent.

 

 

"You know, Ms Lawson," Dr Chakwas said evenly, scrolling through some information on a datapad, "Medi-gel supplies are supposed to be used for injuries that really need it, not bumps and scrapes that will heal naturally in a week or so."

Miranda stayed quiet. Through the window of the medical bay she could see Jack raiding cupboards, tossing aside items that she didn't want and stashing others in her pockets. Her trousers were hanging slightly lower than usual, exposing more of her skinny hip bones, exposing even more than that when Jack bent over to pick up something she had dropped.

"You more than anyone, I thought, would have been keen on managing our supplies." Dr Chakwas was still talking and still scrolling. How could she read and talk at the same time? "Medi-gel can be expensive. Or perhaps that doesn't matter with Cerberus funds?"

She was used to Chakwas slipping in these little 'observations'. She was also used to ignoring them. "Our current supplies are sufficient and there is room in the budget to purchase more if needs be." Outside, Shepard had appeared, arms folded, eyeing Jack, who (reluctantly, by the look of it) returned a packet to one of the cupboards. She said something to Shepard - Miranda watched her lips and her throat move - to which Shepard's only response was a raised eyebrow. With another few words, Jack left, one of her pockets still bulging.

"Strong girl, that one," Chakwas said, snapping Miranda back to the medical bay. She had paused reading to watch the scene outside also. "She hasn't been in here once asking for medi-gel, no matter how severe the injury." The doctor had those all-knowing eyes that Miranda could feel frisking her very soul. No doubt she had seen many things on all the ships she had served on. Cooped up inside a vessel with little to do inside and lots of pressure outside always meant tensions built, and a doctor would always know as well as ... the man or woman in charge.

Miranda felt for a brief moment a tremor of embarrassment.

"Well, good day to you Ms Lawson." Chakwas picked up her datapad with a hint of a smile and resumed reading, indicating that Miranda was dismissed.

 

 

"Aren't those clothes uncomfortable?" Jack asked after they had finished having sex for what must have been the... seventh time. 

Miranda was losing count. "These?" She pulled the zipper closed, allowing the fabric to hug her figure. "Strangely, no. The clothing moulds to my shape exactly. Aren't yours cold?"

Jack, once again, wasn't even bothering to pull her clothes on yet. "Not really."

Were they having a conversation?

Apparently not, as Jack rolled over, breaking eye contact.

They didn't speak to each other properly for a few days after that. Miranda wasn't sure why, after all, it was just sex. Why then did it feel so strange whenever she saw Jack on the monitors, down there all alone?

 

 

The next time they were on a mission together, Shepard had asked for cover fire and the two of them had taken down the same person at the same time.

Jack flashed Miranda a wide grin and Miranda smiled back before pulling her down behind cover as a fresh wave of bullets from a stray turret came their way.

"So this is what you mean by being careful?" Jack smirked as Miranda reloaded.

"Yes. The whole point is for them to get shot, not me."

"You should let go every now and then." Jack leapt over the barrier in her customary way.

It was only a moment before Miranda felt laughter bubbling up within her, and she followed suit.

 

 

Miranda tried to read her latest set of files, but she found herself distracted. Instead, she turned to a dossier she had on Pragia. Reading it over and over again sent shivers through her until it suddenly became too much to bear and she stood up, pacing her office back and forth. When that proved too much, she went back to reading, this time about Jack. In her photograph, she looked defiant and proud.

Some time later, Miranda was waiting when they finally returned. Jack said nothing, but walked straight past her, heading downstairs. Miranda gave it a few moments, and then followed.

She found Jack waiting for her.

"Want to fuck?" She was unzipping her trousers. "I could do with a celebratory fuck." When Miranda didn't move, Jack kicked her trousers to one side. "Come on, strip already."

Miranda didn't say anything, even though she could feel desire starting to tickle.

"Come on, strip! Or get the fuck out of my face. I've had enough of talking about my fucking feelings today." She was naked, and so thin, but packed full of power. Miranda relented.

Afterwards, Miranda was sitting up, leaning against the wall as Jack lay beside her. She looked down to see Jack looking up at her, eyes full of anguish, asking for something.

"It's over," Miranda told her soothingly, stroking her back. Jack curled up against her leg, closing her eyes. "It's over. Sleep now."

 

 

"Loser takes their clothes off," Jack said casually, shuffling the cards.

Miranda was sat on a crate, with another crate in-between them as Jack sat on her makeshift bed. "Why don't you save me the trouble and just go right ahead, then?"

Jack's laughter was sudden and even in the low light, her eyes glittered with merriment. "I could say the same thing." She raised an eyebrow at Miranda. "Just get the small talk out of the way and skip straight to the fucking, right?"

Her laughter died as suddenly as it had arrived, so Miranda paused before answering. "No," she said carefully. "I want the satisfaction of winning."

Jack's expression was unreadable. The cards made a neat rustle as she pushed them together.

She couldn't help but feel as if Jack wanted something more from her. "Maybe the loser... buys drinks on the Citadel." It would be the first time they would actually go out together instead of huddling down in the lower decks of the ship, but somehow Miranda thought it felt right.

"Make it Omega," was Jack's reply.

"Deal."

"Deal."

They shook hands. Jack's grip was firm, and a little too warm.

 

 

On Omega they had drinks that felt like their throats were being set on fire and drinks that felt like their throats were being frozen. They stumbled onto the dance floor then stumbled off shortly after when they realised neither of them could move properly after all of those drinks and the other patrons were getting annoyed with all the elbowing.

They sobered up a little in a booth, just talking about nothing in particular before heading back to the Normandy via a little detour through Omega's back alleys. Jack wasn't looking for a fight but some mercenaries apparently were. Miranda stood to one side and watched Jack dispatch them easily.

They walked back to the Normandy arm in arm, laughing all the way.

 

 

On the Citadel at the self-proclaimed galaxy-famous ramen stall, Miranda laughed as Jack threatened to stab her in the eyes with the chopsticks if she laughed one more time at Jack's attempts to eat with them.

Their outing on the Citadel was a lot tamer and more civilised than on Omega (there was less alcohol after all). They looked at multi-coloured fish, admired a few new weapon modifications and Jack pulled faces at C-Sec officers behind their backs.

 

"Nice digs," Jack said admiringly, looking around Miranda's office. It was the first time she had actually been inside.

"Thank you."

Jack ran her hands across the desk and looked suggestively at her. Miranda raised an eyebrow in return which made Jack laugh and turn to sprawl on a chair at the side of the room. "We really could fuck on that desk, you know."

"I know. But when we do, be sure not to accidentally press a button and link us to the Illusive Man."

Jack was stretched out, arms behind her head. She was wearing a new pair of cargo pants today and it was strange seeing her in clothing that wasn't rumpled or stained from being worn for days. "I bet he'd like that, wouldn't he? Dirty pervert."

She came upstairs more often after that day, to talk, to attempt to playfully snoop around Miranda's files, to lounge to one side or on the bed or even on Miranda's own office chair. She was like a stray cat, and Miranda happily took her in. It was surprisingly pleasant to have her company, and their conversations grew easier and more relaxed, almost natural.

Jack didn't really spend the night in Miranda's bed, preferring the two of them, if they slept beside each other, to huddle down in the underbelly of the ship. Miranda never really questioned why Jack had a problem with sleeping in a proper bed; sleeping with Jack downstairs after lengthy lovemaking sessions, frenzied fucks or even after conversations that stretched way into the early hours wasn't exactly uncomfortable. But Jack was gradually coming upstairs more and more, and if she was caught going into Miranda's office by any other members of the crew, her fierce stare offset any questions anyone might want to ask.

Miranda could feel her affection for Jack expanding, being cultivated a little more every time Jack winked at her, or smiled, or made a face, or even when she waited shyly at the entrance of Miranda's office, even though Miranda had tried to make clear that she was always more than welcome. She would stand in the doorway, fingers hooked into her waistband, trying to look casual, but always looking for a nod of approval, or a smile, or a kiss blown her way.

It was different though when Miranda came from saying goodbye to her sister. She had refused to allow Jack to accompany her, and they hadn't spoken to each other in fury for at least a day after that. But when Miranda eventually returned from the mission, she found Jack waiting for her, leaning against her desk.

This time, it was Miranda who waited quietly in the doorway, watching. It wasn't until Jack moved forward, taking both of her hands that she entered the room. The door slid shut behind her with a quiet whisper.

"Is she safe?" Jack asked.

"Yes. For now."

"Are..." Jack swallowed. "Are... you ok?"

"I think so."

Their lovemaking was gentle that evening, and Jack took the lead with a surprising tenderness. Jack stayed the night in Miranda's bed, the first night of many.

 

 

"We're all going to fucking die." Jack was pacing back and forth in Miranda's office while Miranda sat at her desk, casually watching her. "And it's all going to be for fucking nothing. Doesn't that bother you even a little bit?"

Of course it bothered her. After all of this time considering the mission that _was going to happen_ it was suddenly becoming the mission that _was happening_. And for all of Shepard's pep talks, there was still that basic human instinct of fear. Everything seemed to be falling apart so quickly, and Shepard's hand had been forced. They were going through the relay - the time had been set. Who knows, they might not even make it through. Miranda had run the scenarios and the calculations thousands of times, and she still didn't feel entirely prepared. And if Miranda felt that way, she wondered how Shepard felt. Everyone else on the ship was dealing with things in their own way: Garrus retreating into his calibrations; Tali frantically checking and re-checking outputs and levels in Main Engineering; Wrex and Zaeed engaging in dangerous wrestling matches downstairs; Legion was... being Legion, holding silent internal conversations and occasionally communicating with EDI; Thane, Samara and Kasumi were all sitting quiet and still in their relative quarters, watching the stars go by and Jack, well, Jack was alternating between excitement at the prospect of violence and fury at the prospect of death.

Miranda wasn't going to tell Jack that it was all going to be all right. For one, she wasn't certain of it herself and she didn't want to lie, not to Jack. For another, Jack wouldn't appreciate any kind of bullshit. She never did.

"Come and meet me in the engine room tonight. 23-hundred hours."

"What? Why?"

"I'll show you something spectacular."

Miranda made sure that nobody would disturb them. That night, the last night, they made love in front of the core. There were no words, just quiet sighs and the sound of their lips and bodies meeting over and over. In the blue light and gentle humming sound of the core, Miranda thought that Jack had never looked lovelier. And judging by Jack's expression as she reached up to push Miranda's long hair away from her face, she was thinking the same thing.

 

 

Each section brought a fresh nightmare. That room beyond, filled with those mutant bee stinger _things_ was the latest. Miranda could feel herself coming undone as Shepard considered her options, one of whom was Jack.

The only way out was through. Miranda tried to tell herself every little phrase, every helpful pointer of advice to try and steady her nerves, but being here was fucking terrifying and there was no other way to describe it. Every little movement, every little millimetre of progress, every little part of the mission as it progressed filled her with fresh waves of worry, but she couldn't let it get to her. Not only was this what she signed up for, and what she did best, but Jack would hate her for worrying and for fussing. They both knew that they were highly capable, and more importantly, they both knew the other would tease them mercilessly for showing weakness.

Somehow though, the thought of those _things_ , those little stinging insect-like creatures, pricking Jack's skin, injecting her with-- Miranda couldn't stand it.

"I can do it, Shepard."

Miranda was certain that Shepard knew the only reason she volunteered was so that Jack was no longer an option. There was no way that Miranda's biotics were even on a level with Jack's, but she could probably do it if she tried. She was good under pressure, after all. There was a brief flicker across the Commander's sharp eyes as she considered the situation.

Miranda struggled to keep her expression neutral during the long pause that followed.

Finally, Shepard spoke. "Samara. Come with me."

The asari bowed her head quietly in assent. Miranda let out a noiseless sigh of relief. It didn't mean that they were completely out of the woods, but at least it meant that Jack wouldn't have to do this part. 

Their eyes met over the curve of Samara's neck. Jack looked as if she was also struggling to give out an air of nonchalance, one that slipped momentarily as she looked straight at Miranda. Their eye contact was broken when Samara raised her head.

Shepard gave the order to move out.

Later, how much later she doesn't know but Miranda is aching all over but she keeps saying _just a little more, just a little more_. She's vaguely aware of Jack somewhere to her left. The thought that Jack is nearby acts like a steady stream of energy, a prop for her sore spirit. There are so many enemies... So many. And this place is made of nightmares.

 

 

Against all odds, they survived. Not cleanly, but that didn't matter.

"Do you feel like celebrating or something?" Jack asked as they lay on Miranda's bed, just staring at the ceiling. They were both fully clothed (well, as fully clothed as Jack usually was).

"Not really." Miranda's head was full of thoughts of _things_ rushing towards her. Point, shoot. Point, shoot. Point, shoot shoot shoot. Take cover, reload. Point, shoot, shoot, shoot. Run. Run some more. Her legs and arms and back were aching but at least she was alive.

"Me neither. I don't even want a drink. Fuck, what is up with that?"

"I know. I'm just... tired."

"Same here."

Jack reached for her hand and Miranda obliged, the two of them interlinking their fingers tightly.

Some time later, both of them were asleep, still holding hands.

 

 

The Normandy was winding down. It was only a short time before Shepard was going to go to the Alliance willingly, to await trial. Somehow it seemed so unfair, after everything that had been done. Even Miranda, fan of protocol as she was, didn't like the idea of Shepard being arrested and imprisoned, even though she knew that the Alliance wouldn't exactly throw her in a dark cell. She would be made comfortable, she would be given a friendly guard and even under arrest, people would treat the Commander with respect. Miranda hoped, anyway.

A number of them had already left. Miranda was packing her things, trying to judge what was essential for evading the Illusive Man. In reality, she would be taking very little; she wasn't quite sure why she had such a large holdall on her bed.

Jack entered without knocking, as she had become accustomed to doing. She stood in silence for a long moment beside Miranda, both of them looking at the various bits and pieces strewn across the bed.

"You don't need that. Or that." Jack pointed at a few things. "And you definitely can't carry that."

Miranda smiled a little. They hadn't really spoken about separating, although somehow they had both known that it was going to happen. She found her arm drifting to wrap around Jack's waist. "You could come with me."

"No I can't," Jack said briskly. "Too much of a risk."

"I can look after you."

"You don't need to look after me. You need to look after yourself." Jack's arm was around her waist, too. "I don't want you... losing your focus. The minute you drop the ball, then that son of a bitch is going to get you, and I don't want that to happen." 

"Are you being brave?"

"Yes."

Miranda closed her eyes briefly, knowing that Jack was absolutely right, and that she had been thinking about all the same things that Miranda was thinking of. It wasn't possible for them to be together. But that didn't mean... "It doesn't mean that we're...that it's..."

"Of course not, fuck's sake." Jack turned to press her forehead against Miranda's shoulder. "Fuck, don't _say_ it." Miranda saw Jack's shoulder shake for half a second or so before she steeled herself. "Long-distance and all that. I can handle it. Can you?"

"Yes, of course."

"Now come on, I'll help you pack. All my stuff's already together." Jack broke away to start rifling through a stack of papers and Miranda let her. They couldn't stay here forever, but that didn't mean she didn't want to desperately, with all of her heart.

 

 

They said goodbye at a small, anonymous spaceport. 

"Where are you going to go?" Miranda asked her, holding her hand, distractedly tracing her knuckles with a thumb.

Jack shrugged nonchalantly. "Who knows? I'll find somewhere."

"I can arrange something for you, if you like."

"No, don't do that. I can manage, honestly." Jack managed a smile, attempting to reassure Miranda even though she knew that Miranda would always worry about her. "Try and give a go of it for myself. See what happens."

Time was ticking away. Eventually, they moved to hold each other and kissed for a very long time, knowing that they were saying goodbye. That was the hardest thing, and Miranda wasn't sure whether that horrible ache in her chest would actually subside.

"You are the only one I really give a shit about," Jack said quietly against Miranda's lips. "Don't... Don't die, ok? Go do what you need to do, kick some ass and then..." She isn't quite crying, but Miranda can hear that she wants to. "Then come and find me."

"Ok." She nods over and over again. "Ok." 

"Quick and clean, yeah?"

"Yeah." Miranda kisses Jack on the forehead. "Just..." She has to take a deep breath to try and keep her voice steady. "I'll come back to you. I promise."

There was a time when Jack would have thrown that 'p' word back in Miranda's face, with a hefty biotic punch to boot. But now, she only nodded. No angry glare, no swear words. Just a simple nod. That was enough for her - it showed acceptance and it showed that they had a deal.

She knew that Jack wouldn't take offence when she left without looking back. Miranda was determined to get the job done, and done right, so that she wouldn't have to leave ever again.

 

 

Miranda is a ghost. Some days she feels as if she has disappeared completely. Some days she feels hollow. Other days, she feels invincible, like nothing can hurt her, like she's definitely going to win and she's going to be free, free to be with Jack. It's what keeps her going, even though sometimes the loneliness cuts so sharply she can hardly breathe.

Time passes, and every now and then she uses her contacts in a way she shouldn't, to find out how Jack is doing. Seeing the woman's progress warms her heart, and the thought of her landing a teaching position at Grissom Academy of all places tickles her funny bone, keeping her amused even as she cleans blood off her clothes and weapons. Some days there is a lot of blood on her clothes. Some days, she finds herself crawling into whatever bed or hole she's sleeping in for the night, aching down to the bone, covered with bruises. But in the morning, she always makes sure that she looks immaculate. She must give the impression that she is invincible. In a way, as long as she keeps thinking of returning to Jack, she is. There's nothing that spurs her on quite like the thought of going back to _her_ , finally resting with _her_ when it's all over.

Who knows? Maybe they could settle down. Get a holographic picket fence around the balcony if they got a nice apartment.

It's never safe for her to contact Jack, but she knows that they made a promise that day and that both of them are going to keep it or die trying. Some days, Miranda thinks it might be the latter in her case but each day takes her closer to safety, freedom and hours tracing patterns on Jack's skin. 

One day, she enlists Shepard's help. Another day, she faces off against a masked assassin and barely escapes with her life. Another day after that, she finds herself joining the battle on Earth, facing another nightmare that surpasses what she encountered the last time. Earth is dark, everyone is scared, but once again she finds comfort picturing Jack organising defences, barking at her students. It's been so long since they've seen each other. Miranda has had plenty of time to get used to Jack's half-ponytail, and she dreams of running her fingers through it.

 

 

After the war, it took a while for her to build up the courage to see Jack again. She wasn't sure whether she was delaying or not, and there were many things that needed to be sorted in the aftermath of the war. Miranda had been all too ready to throw herself into the work of rebuilding, since it felt good to be putting something together instead of trying to take it apart. But finally, she had put her fears aside and made the call to an impatient Jack, who said something along the lines of _about fucking time_ and given her a place to meet.

It seemed somehow too good to be true, the thought that it was finally over and that she could actually go somewhere freely without worrying about looking over her shoulder, or keeping one hand on her gun. It also seemed too good to be true that Jack even remembered her, and what they had said to each other.

How would it be when they finally saw each other again? They hadn't been physically together in the same space for a very long time, and judging from the pictures and news reports and messages from contacts that Miranda had obsessively been reading, Jack was different. Would she even want to resume a relationship, or whatever it was that they had? Being together in the big wide world was a whole lot different from being together within the confines of a spaceship.

The journey to their meeting place wasn't long. It was the site of a new boarding school being built to shelter and educate young people who had been orphaned in the war, with special provision for biotics. There were many similar projects springing up all over Earth, with everyone keen to restore a sense of peace and love after the horrors they had all endured. 

All of her doubts vanished the moment she saw Jack beckoning to her from a short distance away. "Come on already! I haven't seen you in a lifetime!"

Miranda knew that Jack would endlessly mock her if they ran to each other like lovers in those terribly tacky vids, so she took her time even though trying to take each step at a normal pace was agony. When she finally reached Jack, she found herself swamped in a painfully tight hug and all of her inhibitions fell away until she found herself kissing Jack again and again, not caring who saw them.

Once the kisses subsided, they smiled endlessly at each other. "I'm taking you back to mine. Come on, I want to show you my new tattoo." Jack winked at Miranda, who laughed in return and obeyed as Jack started to drag her along.

"I thought you didn't have any more space?"

"Oh, I found space. Believe me, I found space."

 

 

That night, their lovemaking had seemed to last forever. Miranda had been shy to start with, but Jack's boldness had conquered all of her reservations. Jack's newly-built quarters were cosy, the bed perfect for the two of them as they rolled together over and over, then slept, then woke again to roll all over again. Their bodies remembered each other.

It was nearly afternoon when Miranda finally woke up. The bed beside her was empty but she wasn't concerned. Stretching, she reached for a robe which had been left on the side for her and wrapped it around herself. She couldn't remember the last time she felt so refreshed. _Well, a reunion with your partner will do that to you_ , she thought with a smile, getting up to exit the room.

Jack's quarters were split into a small bedroom and a living area with a kitchenette. Miranda hadn't looked at the place too closely yesterday, but today she found that Jack hadn't yet put her personal stamp on things. Everything was still neutral colours and clean lines, and there was the odd bag or boot here and there. A large window spanned one side of the room, revealing that there was a balcony. No holographic picket fence though... yet. Miranda made her way outside to where Jack was sitting on a flimsy-looking chair. Another one was waiting for Miranda beside her, so she took it, stretching out luxuriously.

"They keep leaving random shit here," Jack said, gesturing to the chairs. She was already dressed, to Miranda's disappointment although given the time that shouldn't have been a surprise. "They always think it might be useful to me. This time, it was. The other day, they tried to give me some ugly-ass painting to 'brighten up the place'." She snorted. "I told the guy to shove it up his ass."

Miranda could imagine some poor guy running away in terror.

"Did you sleep well? I don't have much here but I can probably find you something to eat if you're hungry."

"No thanks," Miranda replied, running her fingers loosely through her long hair. She yawned again, the last vestiges of sleep releasing their hold. The air was cool and crisp outside and it felt nice to be able to breathe easily. It felt like a fresh day, a new start.

"Have you given any thought to... what you might do now?" Jack smiled at Miranda slyly.

"I... don't know." Miranda smiled back. "I hadn't given it much thought beyond coming back to you. Like I promised."

Jack responded with a quick kiss. "Why don't you come and work here?"

"Teach?" Miranda snorted. "It's... not really my thing. I don't have much patience for children."

"They're not just _children_." Jack was smirking slightly with that odd pride of a teacher. "But who said anything about teaching? You could be my secretary, or something." She laughed wickedly, only laughing more when Miranda slapped her arm in playful indignation.

They were quiet for a while after that, just watching the scene before them. The hope for this place was that it was going to be even better than the Grissom Academy for biotics and building was still continuing. They could see materials being hauled back and forth. Perhaps they were doing here what many other places across the galaxy were doing and building a monument of some kind to Shepard.

There was a slight pressure on Miranda's shoulder as Jack rested her head. She rested her cheek on Jack's head in turn, the feeling of hair on Jack's head almost foreign, but a nice sensation.

"You know," Jack said softly, almost so softly that Miranda had to strain to listen over the background hum of activity, "my place is big enough for two."

"Oh?" She thought that she could get used to this, smiling all the time. "Are you asking me to move in with you?"

Jack's laughter tickled. "You're going to make me say it, aren't you, you bitch?"

"Yes." She shrugged Jack off her shoulder and turned to face her, smiling as she heard Jack ask the question.

"Will you move in with me, already?"

"Certainly."

"Don't expect me to make you breakfast every day, though."

"As long as you don't expect me to always do your laundry."

"Deal."

"Deal."

They were nose to nose by now, and both grinning ear to ear. They said "I love you," at the same time, and even leaned in to kiss at the same time. Miranda could feel a warm flutter in her chest.

As for Jack, she had one more coherent thought before everything else started to melt away. _She's here. With me. She's really, really here._

_Fuck, I'm going soft._

She wasn't sure though that she even cared.


End file.
